


What teens get up to

by KByrd



Category: Black Panther (2018), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: After such a topsy-turvy day that had left Shuri feeling discombobulated and unsettled, it was kind of endearing, almost sweet, to see that Peter was just as much of an idiot as every other boy who’d taken off his shirt in front of her. He sat there flexing and sucking in his stomach to show off his nice taut abs and trying to look nonchalant. Shuri wondered how long he could hold his pose and whether he’d be forced to breathe if she poked him.This story includes teenagers having some naked fun so if that seems icky to you, consider this fair warning.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Shuri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	What teens get up to

Shuri is one of the smartest people in Wakanda, one of the smartest people of her generation, so she is unused to feeling uncertain. But when she wakes with a scratchy throat on dry, dusty ground, she has no idea where she is. Or what has just happened. One minute she was fighting in Wakanda, then the next thing she knew, people all around her were falling, crying out in shock, and turning to dust.

“Princess, princess,” someone is saying urgently.

She staggers shakily to her feet noting that she is dressed for battle. But a quick glance around showed that she is clearly not in Wakanda anymore.

“Come!” someone calls. “We have to go! We are called to fight.”

Her brother is standing next to an unfamiliar Asian man dressed in red robes. He smiles broadly when she approaches and wraps her in a hug.

“Apparently much has happened while we were asleep,” he says cryptically. “But the war to end all wars is being waged and we have been called to bring our finest warriors.”

“We’ll brief you later,” the wizard says kindly.

“For now, just follow Okoyo’s lead,” T’Challa tells her firmly. Crowds of people, not only Wakandan warriors, are climbing shakily to their feet and looking around, just as confused as Shuri.

“What? Where?” she wants to ask.

“Later,” he promises her. “Even I don’t have all the answers just now.”

So Shuri steps through a portal conjured by a wizard into a hellscape of battle. The sky is dark, there is a spaceship and aliens and monsters, lightning, and Thor … People are flying, some in iron suits like Stark. She thinks she sees Ironman himself, but isn’t sure.

She finds Okoyo rallying the troops and she follows and fights. Gets knocked down and gets back up. It is exhausting and confusing and terrible.

She is already on her knees when a huge blast sends people flying. And then the aliens and the bad guys start screaming and turning to dust. Shuri feels nauseous watching them and feeling an odd sense of deja-vu. She checks her own hands, but they are fine.

All around her, people are hugging and crying and exclaiming.

Okoyo finds her. “T’Challa is tending to Stark,” she says bluntly. “He’ll want to see you.”

In the background, Shuri can hear people exclaiming “Five years! It’s been five years?”

She peers closely at Okoyo who looks subtly different than Shuri expects - a little weary, sporting a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, and wearing an unfamiliar tunic.

Okoyo pulls her into a hug. “It is VERY good to have you back princess,” she says. “You have no idea.”

“What happened?” Shuri asks.

“It’s a long story and cannot do it justice right now, right here,” Okoyo says, leading her towards a crowd of people clustered around one fallen soldier. “But basically, five years ago, we were fighting Thanos - do you remember?”

“Remember?” Shuri snorts. “It feels to me like it just happened.”

Okoyo nods. “We lost,” she says bluntly. “Thanos got the stones and snapped his fingers. Half the population died.”

Shuri looks at her own fingers. “Turned to dust?” she whispers.

“Yes,” Okoyo agrees. “You, T’Challa, more warriors than I can list right now. Dusted.”

“Oh my god.”

They reach the crowd and T’Challa stands to greet her. “He lives, but barely,” he says curtly. “We’re going back to Wakanda to see what we can do for him.”

Tony Stark lies unconscious on the ground, being tended to by a pair of Wakandan healers. He’s still wearing his Ironman suit, but his right arm is a charred, smoking mess.

“I’ll just …” Shuri starts to say, but T’Challa puts a hand on her arm and shakes his head gently. “You heard about the Snap? The Dusting?” he asks.

She nods.

“It’s been five years,” he says. “Things have changed for sure. New techniques, new medicines. Let the healers do their work.”

She steps back and watches as a different wizard creates a portal and the Wakandans lift Stark onto a floating stretcher and carry him away.

“I’ll stay,” Okoyo says. “To sort things out from this end.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa nods. He reaches for Shuri’s hand and they follow the healers through the portal into the palace in Wakanda.

The healers whisk Stark away. 

T’Challa and Shuri are engulfed by a mob of people touching them and crying and exclaiming in delight. It’s all a bit too much for Shuri but she tries to be gracious.

And then her mother, the Queen arrives, sweeping through the palace like a battleship, and her guards shoo the crowd away.

“Mom!” Shuri cries as she flings herself into her mother’s arms.

Before … before the Snap, or whatever they are calling it, Ramonda had been beautiful and queenly and so youthful looking that many people commented that she looked more like T’Challa’s sister than his mother.

No-one is going to say that anymore. Her face is still stately, but lined with new wrinkles and her hair is several shades greyer than before. 

They kiss and they hug and Ramonda gives them a brief summary - yes, Thanos snapped his fingers, yes half the population died immediately, but death from numerous other causes including neglect, accidents, starvation, and suicide has swept through Wakanda ever since.

“I have done my best to hold the kingdom together,” she tells T’Challa sadly, “But some days have been very, very hard.”

He squeezes her fingers. “I’m here now.”

They decide that T’Challa needs to go back to the office for the Queen mother to explain what’s been going on. There are big decisions that need to be made sooner rather than later. They apologize to Shuri and she waves them off.

“I’m not interested in all that stuff,” she assures them. 

They leave, surrounded by guards and Shuri is left on her own. She feels unsettled, disoriented, and unbalanced as if the earth has tilted. She wonders if she has a concussion. It reminds her of when she and some school buddies experimented with mild psychedelic drugs.

It’s a deeply unfamiliar feeling.

Shuri walks around the side of the building and freezes. There’s a kid, a WHITE boy, slumped in a tired heap on the ground, his back against the wall.

Shuri blinks.

Friends and family joke at her inability to judge age with white people or even to tell them apart. It probably doesn’t help that the only white guy she’s ever spent time around is Bucky Barnes who is 100 years old, but looks … younger. 

But this kid is obviously young - probably pre teen or barely into his teens.

She approaches him carefully and crouches down. “Hey,” she says softly in English. “Are you ok?”

He looks up. He’s dirty and sweaty and pale with big brown eyes, a tousled mop of brown hair, and a bloody nose. He’s wearing an odd red skin-tight spandex suit that covers him from neck to toes, even his hands are covered.

It occurs to Shuri that he must have fought in the battle and she’s furious that someone let this kid, this barely a teen boy participate in such a dangerous conflict. Even rollercoasters are more careful with their you-must-be-this-tall to ride this ride rules.

“Yeah,” he says in an American accent. “This is Wakanda, right?” 

“It is,” she agrees. “How’d you get here?”

“Followed some people through one of those magic circle things,” he explains.

Shuri wonders if he’s Stark’s son - there’s something very Stark about the suit which up close is less spandex and more metallic scales.

“Are you looking for someone?” she asks gently. “Would someone, like your parents, be looking for you?”

“My parents are dead,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs. “No-one knows I'm here, but then, no-one knows that I was in New York either so ...?”

“Hmmm.”

“I hear we missed a bit, huh?” he says.

“You were .. ah … dusted too?” Shuri asks.

“I guess so,” he answers. “One minute I was just talking to Mr. Stark and the next, I was waking up on my own and being told I was needed to fight.”

“Me too,” Shuri says. “Has anyone here offered you food or a chance to clean up?” She’s not at all maternal, or particularly good at caretaking, but this, THIS she can do. She can take care of this kid.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he says.

“Nonsense,” she says firmly, offering her hand. “Wakandans are proud of our hospitality. What’s your name?”

He climbs gracefully to his feet. He’s short, a head shorter than Shuri and slight built. “I’m parkner, peterman, parker … I mean my name is Peter … Peter Parker,” he babbles.

She smirks a bit at his fumbling his own name. “Nice to meet you. I’m Shuri.”

He nods. “The king’s sister,” he says eagerly. “The smart one who makes the cool weapons.”

She’s a little surprised that her reputation has spread to teeny-boppers in America but it’s gratifying that he seems to know who she is.

“Come,” she says leading him into the residence wing of the palace. It occurs to her at the last minute that if she really has been gone five years, her suite might have been re-possessed, but the security panel accepts her fingerprints with a soft beep and the door unlocks.

Her suite is clearly still hers - her posters are still up, her knick-knacks are still on her dresser, and her shoes are still tucked under the bed. It’s cleaner than she’s ever seen it - someone has been in to tidy up, but it’s still hers.

She rummages in a closet and finds a t-shirt, some short pants that would be cropped on her (but not on Peter) and some never-worn silk boxers (don’t ask) still in their package.

Then she takes him into the bathroom and shows him how the shower works.

Peter is wide-eyed and Shuri takes a moment to appreciate that as an American, he’s probably not used to such luxury. Bucky is always laughing and marvelling at the technical wonders of Wakanda.

“Do you need help with your suit?” she asks kindly.

“No,” he shakes his head curtly.

HIs voice is squeaky and Shuri thinks dark thoughts about whoever let him fight in the grand battle. “A child soldier!”

She leaves him alone and goes back to her room to strip off her own battle gear and change into comfortable clothing while Peter showers.

When he emerges from the shower dressed in her clothes, Shuri smiles brightly. “Are you hungry? Want to get some food?”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But first … is there any way to call home? I’ve been thinking that if people who were dusted are coming back, then my aunt, my aunt May might be wondering why I haven't called.”

“Sure,” Shuri nods. “I don’t have anything here though. Someone appears to have appropriated my phone and my tablet, but if you follow me, I know where to go.”

Her communication beads don’t appear to be working and she feels a little lost with no smart phone, no tablet, no beads ...

“I guess after five years, even Wakandan tech will be a little out-of-date,” Peter suggests.

They walk down the corridor and Shuri knocks on a friend’s door. The woman who opens the door exclaims in delight and pulls Shuri into a warm hug. She pats her down and praises Bast for Shuri’s return.

After a few minutes, Shuri pulls away. “I have a favour to ask,” she says. “This here is Peter and he needs to call his people in America. Can you help him?”

“Oh sweetie,” Melina coos, reaching to grab Peter’s hand. “Were you dusted as well?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I mean, I guess.”

“And where do you want to call?”

“New York.”

“It’s about 10:30 pm there right now,” she says, doing a quick calculation in her head. “Is that OK?”

“I’d like to try,” he answers.

Melina lets them into her room and pulls up a hologram communicator. “Just audio?” she confirms with Peter.

“Uh yeah.”

He proves to be surprisingly adept at technology as Melina shows him how to search people and dial the appropriate codes.

Shuri pulls Melina into the corridor to give Peter some privacy. She doesn’t even bother to ask whether she was dusted because Melina is clearly five years older than the last time Shuri saw her. Still beautiful, but somehow older and wiser.

They were once close in age.

“Tell me,” Shuri asks. “What happened after the … whatever?”

“The Dusting?” Melina sighs. “It was brutal. Half the population vanished immediately but then many more people died in car crashes and train wrecks. Airplanes fell out of the sky. People died in hospitals because their doctors died. Caregivers dusted, nursing mothers dusted. We had to send teams into every village to check every hut. We found babies and toddlers alone in huts and fields as their parents had died. Lots of elders died.”

“Holy …”

Melina nods. “And then after, we had not enough farmers to harvest the crops and not enough doctors or nurses and especially not enough mental health practitioners. And people started burning out. I hear it was worse outside our borders. Suicide, mass uprisings ...”

Shuri can hear Peter exclaim “May!” And then “I’m in Wakanda … yeah … five years, I know …” 

“Your sainted mother, may Bast smile upon her,” Melina says, saluting with a clenched fist. “She pulled it all together. Brought people into the city, found housing and food and support.”

Shuri considers how difficult it must have been for her mother to lose her husband and both children in such a short period of time. Her heart aches.

“This un-dusting or whatever we will call it is going to open a lot of wounds,” Melina warns her.

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she hastens to explain. “EVERYONE is thrilled that those who were dusted are returned to us, but after five years, a lot has changed. Children have grown up. Parents left single have moved on and maybe married new people.”

“It’s going to be chaos,” Shuri realizes.

Peter emerges from Melina’s room with a bright smile. “I found May,” he says. “She’s fine, she’s good. She dusted too, but she’s back and staying with a friend for now.”

“Great,” Shuri nods. “Food now?”

“Yeah.”

Peter bounces as he follows her down to the cafeteria and asks a thousand questions about Wakanda. And then he eats an ungodly amount of food, leaving Shuri marveling at the metabolism of teenaged boys.

Under the bright lights of the cafeteria, Shuri notes that he has acne on his forehead and wisps of a faint mustache on his upper lip. She wonders if he’s older than she assumed. What age do white boys start puberty?

“What’s next?” she asks, as he wipes up the last bit of gravy from his plate. “Want to do some sightseeing?”

“Um yeah,” he nods. “But first, do you think you could smuggle me in to see Mr. Stark?”

“I’m pretty sure we can just walk in the front door,” she says drily. “But I don’t think he’s up for conversation just yet.”

“Um yeah,” he agrees, “But I came here to see him so …seems like I should, you know?” 

They walk over to the medical wing of the palace and once again, Shuri is engulfed with hugs and kisses and exclamations of joy over her return.

The head healer takes them to Stark’s recovery room where he lies quietly in a nice, sunlight room, covered in tubes and wires. His right arm has been amputated below the elbow. The machines hum and beep softly.

Peter goes quietly to his left side and strokes Stark’s hand. 

The healer explains what’s been going on and Peter asks some insightful questions, showing a surprising knowledge of medical terms.

“So the prognosis isn’t great, huh?” he says. 

The healer shakes her head sadly. “His heart has stopped a few times and his brain has been without oxygen for longer than we like. We’re worried about brain damage.”

Peter nods sadly.

Shuri takes him on an impromptu tour through the part of the medical wing that used to be her territory. It’s different now, things have been moved around, but it’s also still familiar. Her fingers tap along the counter that used to be her station.

“Wakanda has the best medical system in the world,” Shuri assures Peter. “If Stark can be saved, it will be here.”

He nods, still looking unhappy. “It didn’t need to be him,” he says. “Snapping the gauntlet, I mean.”

“Who else?” Shuri asks.

“Banner, Thor, Captain America,” he answers. “ME … hell, Captain Marvel is practically indestructible.”

“You?”

He nods. “Tony forgets that he’s only human under that suit.” 

Shuri squints thoughtfully at the kid, her brain whirling. “Did anyone check you out?” she asks Peter. “After the battle?”

“Um no,” he shakes his head. “It’s ok, I’m fine.”

“We have kind of a policy here,” she tells him firmly. “Everyone gets checked out. That’s to catch the stubborn ones like my brother.”

“It’s not necessary,” he assures her.

“Humour me,” she says, pointing to a chair that looks a bit like a souped up dentist chair.

He sighs and climbs up. “I don’t need medical attention,” he says. “And your medicine won’t work on me anyways.”

“I’m hurt,” she pouts. “After I just told you that our medical system is the best in the world.”

Peter strips off his (Shuri’s) t-shirt.

Shuri blinks.

That is not the body of a pre-teen middle schooler. Peter is slender and lean, but also powerfully muscled. It helps that he’s holding his breath to suck in his abs and is flexing to show off his muscles while nonchalantly pretending not to be doing anything of the sort.

He is very pale, much paler than Bucky (the only other white guy that Shuri has ever seen shirtless). There’s a faint dusting of light brown hair on his chest.

Boys have been acting stupid around Shuri for as long as she can remember and on this crazy mixed up day where she is feeling lost and confused, it is reassuring to taste a bit of normalcy in seeing that Peter is just as much of an idiot as every other boy who has ever been shirtless in front of her.

She wonders how long he can hold this pose.

“How old are you?” she asks, already guessing that he’s older than she thought.

“Sixteen.”

“Same as me.”

“I know.”

So he’s been at an advantage knowing more about her than she knows about him. She’s tempted to poke his stomach to make him take a breath.

Instead, she leans in to look at the series of bloody gashes across his chest and the purple bruise peeping above his hip. The wounds have scabbed over and already look a week old. The bruise is fading before her eyes.

“Accelerated healing,” he answers her unasked question.

Shuri is one of the smartest people on the planet. Her brain has been a little slow today what with time travel and un-dusting, but finally, FINALLY the tumblers in her head click into place. She thinks of the metallic suit and the memories of someone swinging through the air, not only in the recent battle, but seen on YouTube videos from New York. The friendship with Stark ...

“You’re Spider-man,” she realizes.

“Yup,” he nods, reaching to put his shirt back on. “Shh .. it’s a secret.” 

“How did it happen?” she asks.

“Got bit by a radioactive spider.

“Oh my GOD,” she laughs. “And what super powers do you have?”

“Super speed, super strength, a sense of danger, heightened senses …” he lists. “Oh and I’m super sticky.”

Shuri looks amazed. “I thought that was the suit.”

He nods. “Lots of people think that so it kind of helps with the disguise.”

She reaches for his wrist. “And the web stuff …?”

“Oh god no,” he assures her. “I make that. The webshooters are mechanical, not biological. That would be gross.”

She examines his wrist, noting the delicate blue veins under pale skin. There are burns on his arm that are healing and starting to peel.

“In a lab?”

“At school,” he explains. “At least that’s how I started. I stole ingredients and whipped up the web formula during quiet periods. Had a few false starts, but figured it out eventually.” 

Shuri knows that American schools are chronically underfunded and under equipped and she’s amazed that a kid like Peter has overcome such long odds to get to where he is. Imagine what a kid with his brains could do in an advanced nation like Wakanda where his genius could be nurtured. She’s already plotting scholarships.

“Will you show me?” she asks, letting go of his wrist.

“Yeah, sure.”

They go back to her suite where Peter pulls the red suit out and shows Shuri the embedded AI and the webshooters.

“The nano-bots are acting up,” he explains. “So I have to tweak them a bit.” He settles in a big comfortable armchair to fiddle with the suit and Shuri collapses on her bed, feeling suddenly like she’s been awake for five years and just fought two battles.

She falls asleep.

Shuri wakes, frowning at the familiar ceiling above her, and slowly remembering the odd events of the day. She rolls over and climbs to her feet. Peter is asleep, sprawled uncomfortably in the armchair, his red suit draped over his lap.

The light seeping in is soft and faintly pink, indicating that it is late afternoon, almost evening.

“Hey,” she says, poking Peter’s arm …

He yelps, flinching, and before she can hardly blink, he jumps away from her and ends up ON the freaking ceiling. 

“Jeez!!” she shrieks.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he babbles, dropping gracefully down. “Thank god you already knew my secret.”

She holds a hand dramatically over her heart. “I didn’t expect THAT!”

“I startle easily,” he admits sheepishly.

She rakes her hands through her hair. “Looks like we’ve slept the afternoon away. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah sure,” he nods. “Always am to be honest.”

She leads him to the market near the palace.

Shuri is a princess of Wakanda. She’s never really alone. All her life, she’s been watched and followed by bodyguards. The Dora Milaje are discreet, but Shuri has always been aware of her guards trailing carefully behind even on playdates when she was young and yes, on real dates when she was older. It’s weird now to be wandering through the market without that careful, protective shield.

Of course, Peter is certainly more than a match for anyone who might seek to harm or scare Shuri but the unexpected freedom is kind of exciting.

Shuri is quite sure that palace staff will remember soon enough that they have left the princess unguarded and will send someone to watch over her. But for now, she revels in the unfamiliar feeling of freedom.

The market is always busy, but today it is mobbed with people hugging and crying. Crowds of people mingle and greet each other, exclaiming in delight.

Shuri buys little mini pastries stuffed with spiced meat. Peter tastes them carefully and wrinkles his nose.

“Too spicy?” she asks.

“No!” he denies it quickly.

“Do you have anything milder?” she asks the vendor.

“No, no,” Peter assures her. “They’re not too spicy. That’s not it. It’s just … my senses are dialed up see and so I taste everything … really in detail. And these aren’t too spicy per se, but they have cardamom in them and I’m not totally wild about cardamom, you know.”

The vendor offers them a different selection and they move on. Shuri buys a bag of dainty fruit and they wander through the market nibbling on the pastries and fruit. She greets a half dozen vendors that she knows. Some stalls are closed with hand-written signs explaining that they are shut to celebrate the “return”. Others are overstuffed with families - children sitting on their parents’ laps, siblings arm in arm, and lovers wrapped up in each other.

People exclaim in delight at her presence and ask about her brother.

“He’s fine,” she assures them. 

“Praise be to Bast,” they smile. “Wakanda forever!”

Shuri hands money to a vendor and pours a sparkling drink into little silver cups. Peter tastes it carefully.

“Like champagne,” she explains, “but sweet because of the fruit.”

“It’s alcoholic?”

Shuri smirks. “Yes,” she nods. “But you’re of age, right?”

“Uh huh.”

Shuri is well aware that Americans are terribly prudish and she suspects that Peter is unfamiliar with booze. Still he drinks it. She buys more food, a jug of spiced wine, and a box of sweets - packing it all into a picnic bag. The sun settles low on the horizon turning the sky pink.

Peter asks a thousand questions about the different languages, the meaning of the different types of clothing, the customs, the music, the jewelry, the spontaneous dancing … He is wide-eyed and enthusiastic and game to taste anything the vendors are offering.

A side effect of Wakanda’s isolation is that they are not used to tourists or visitors. Shuri struggles to answer his questions with more than just “that’s the way we do things” but Peter seems not to mind.

As the sun sets behind the mountains, Shuri leads Peter up a steep hill and settles in a park overlooking the city.

“It’s amazing,” he says in awe, looking around. “I’ve never seen anything like this place.”

Shuri spreads the food out on a scarf (it’s all she has) and they eat dinner with their fingers, taking turns swigging the wine from the jug.

“Look at the stars,” Peter marvels lying on the ground, propped on his elbows..

“You don’t have stars in America?” she teases, stretching out next to him in the grass.

“Not in New York,” he retorts. “Too much light pollution. Some nights we can just about make out the space station and the North star. And that’s about it.”

Above them, the sky is a blanket with uncountable sparkling, twinkling lights.

Shuri sighs. “I’m going to let myself be irresponsible for just one night,” she says softly. “I have a feeling that tomorrow I will be pressed into handling some tough things.”

He takes a healthy slug of wine. “Like handling the unforeseen consequences of half the population popping back into existence?”

“Yup,” she nods. “Apparently when the snap happened, babies and toddlers had to be rescued from distant huts after their parents dusted.”

“And now the reverse,” Peter murmurs in sympathy. “Babies that dusted will be popping back into vacant huts all over Wakanda.”

Shuri makes a face and reaches for the wine.

They eat and lick sauce off their fingers and chat about pop culture and American sports. They break open the box of sweets and finish the wine.

“I’m gross and sticky,” Shuri announces. “I never even showered after fighting in a battle.”

“Well, I never noticed,” Peter says politely.

“Want to go check out the hot springs?” she suggests. “I’m in the mood for a soak.”

“Sure.”

She leads him further up the hill to a set of steps carved into the mountain. 

“It’s a natural hot spring,” she explains as they climb. “The water is rich in minerals and over the centuries, the water has carved out natural pools. They’re really hot at the top and get cooler as you move down the hill.”

Peter is fascinated by the bioluminescent plants that grow on both sides of the path and provide the only light. 

“Are they natural?” he asks eagerly. “I thought they didn’t exist in nature, but I heard that scientists have created glowing plants in a lab.”

“They grow all over the place,” Shuri smiles. She explains their chemical compounds and Peter exclaims in delight and chatters to her about their properties.

At the top of the hill, Shuri points to a set of shelves. “You can put your clothes there.”

“What?” Peter says.

“Just leave your clothes there,” she repeats. “We’ll walk back up when we’re done.”  
“I don’t … I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Of course not,” she says, shimming out of her pants and stuffing them carelessly in a cubby. “You don’t wear a suit when you take a bath, do you?”

There are no luminescent plants at the top of the hill and it is very, very dark. Shuri is quite sure that no ordinary boy would be able to see her, but she’s not sure what Peter can see considering his super senses.

“What if someone comes?” he asks warily.

“We’ll be in the water,” she says carelessly. “Who’s going to see anything?”

She knows that Americans can be a bit “shy” but she and T’Challa brought Bucky here once and he took it all in stride - not all bothered by nudity. Shuri peels off her shirt and stuffs it into the cubby with her pants.

“Coming?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assures her. “Just a moment.”

Shuri steps through a narrow path and eases herself into the first pool. The water bubbles through a crack in the rock, steaming gently. The first pool is waist deep and as warm as a hot tub. Shuri sighs and lowers herself into the water. 

Peter appears at the edge of the pool, his hands carefully cupped over his groin, preserving his modesty. 

“Want me to cover my eyes?” Shuri offers in amusement.

“Ah … maybe?”

She covers her eyes and listens as he gingerly eases into the water.

“Ooh hot,” he murmurs.

They float in the warm water in the dark and look up at the stars and the sliver of the moon.

“There’s a place like this in Turkey,” Peter says. “May and Ben went there on their honeymoon - I’ve always been fascinated by the pictures.”

They talk about friends, wondering who will be five years older and who will be the same as before.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Shuri asks.

“No, I’m kind of inept when it comes to girls,” he smiles. “I put my foot in my mouth a lot.”

Shuri laughs.

“It’s gonna be weird.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m starting to roast,” Shuri says. “Time to move to the next pool down.”

Peter averts his eyes and she climbs out and slips into the next pool a few feet below. This pool is shallower and slightly cooler - about the temperature of a warm bath.

Peter follows, less cautious about his modesty. His skin is pale in the darkness and flushed pink from the heat.

“I was in space,” Peter announces suddenly. “When the whole thing … when it happened.”

“Space?” Shuri repeats.

He waves up at the stars. “I was a stowaway,” Peter explains. “On this big doughnut thing that flew over New York.”

“Holy cow.”

Peter gives her a sideways look. “Thought it was a one-way trip, to be honest.”

“Tell me,” she urges him.

So they sit in the warm water and Peter tells her about the wizard and Stark and the battle. He tells her about the Guardians and the battle and Thanos. And his memories of dusting. And the battle.

Shuri tells him her story about the battle in Wakanda, the aliens, the dome, the stone …

They move into a lower pool that is cool enough to be almost chilly.

“What happens next?” Shuri wonders.

“Will Wakanda open up to the world?” Peter asks. “Now that everyone knows the truth?”

“Probably,” Shuri nods. “Sounds like the world is going to need us.”

She climbs out of the pool, well aware that Peter is no longer averting his eyes politely, but watching her. There are thick fuzzy towels rolled up in cubbies at the side of the pool. Shuri wraps herself in one. 

Suddenly Peter’s hand is on her neck.

She startles.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

He has a towel slung around his waist, but they are both basically naked.

“Am I reading you wrong?” he asks softly. His fingers curl into her hair.

“Yes, no,” she whispers.

He leans in to kiss her.

She kisses him back, tasting the wine on his lips. It’s nice. Non demanding. Just sweet and gentle.

“I thought you were bad with girls,” Shuri teases.

“I AM,” he agrees. “But I’m not a moron. Inviting me to skinny dip is not subtle.”

They kiss again; his hands are careful on her waist, not wandering, just holding her firmly.

They trek up the stone steps to the cubbies and dress in the darkness. Shuri’s heart is racing. She wants to kiss him again. She wants to touch him; she wants him to touch her. He grins cheekily at her, his hair damp and unruly. 

She leads the way to the roof of the palace. Finally her luck runs out as the security pad on the outside refuses to accept her finger prints. The door remains firmly locked.

“Damn,” she grumbles. “We’ll have to climb down and walk through the main doors. And then people will see us.”

“Will guards come running if I break the door?” Peter asks, rattling the door knob.

“Not immediately,” she shrugs. “There’s a guard in the main security centre who will see a flashing light. He’ll send someone to investigate … eventually.”

“OK then,” Peter nods. He eyes the hinges thoughtfully, places his fingertips on the door, and just … lifts it off the hinges.

“Be still my beating heart,” Shuri murmurs as she slips inside. “SUCH strength.”

“Well at least I finally impressed you,” he smiles. 

She leads him back to her suite. As soon as the door clicks closed behind her, she reaches for him, sliding her hands under his t-shirt and kissing him hungrily.

He responds with just as much enthusiasm.

She pushes him backwards until they end up on the bed, still kissing. Shuri tugs at his t-shirt and he pulls it off obligingly. She traces patterns on his skin, noting his taut abs, and his barely there, almost healed, bruises.

He slides his hand shyly under her shirt and touches her stomach.

Shuri peels off her shirt and lies back in just her bra.

“You are SO beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

“Thank you.”

Peter traces one finger daintily along the edge of her bra. “I suppose I should be responsible and ask about birth control?”

“Oh shit,” Shuri grumbles. “I don’t know if my hormone shot would last after five years. I mean, does the Dusting count? I guess …”

He makes a face. “Not sure we should take a risk.”

“I might have something,” she promises him, getting up off the bed and heading to the bathroom.

She returns triumphantly holding small silver circles in her hand. “Success!” she announces. “No-one emptied out my bathroom and they’re not even expired.”

Peter is lounging shirtless on her bed. “Cool!” he grins.

She tosses the little circles to him and he catches them easily. “Thanks.”

Shuri bounces happily on the bed and leans over to kiss him. “You’ll love them,” She says. “Not that I have ever had to use American ones before of course, but people who have used American condoms say these are way better. You’ll hardly even notice them.” 

He nods and fidgets a bit with the little packages.

She looks at him shrewdly. “Have you? Do you …?”

“Um .... no,” he whispers. “Sorry. Does that matter?”

“You haven’t ever had sex?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks gently. “I mean, with me? Maybe you’d prefer to have your first time with someone special?”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I've ever seen,” Peter looks at her, his eyes wide and guileless . “And smart. And funny. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. But I … ah … obviously don’t know what I’m doing.”

“We can just take it one step at a time,” she suggests. “There’s no rule that says we have to go all the way.”

“I want to,” he says quickly. 

They kiss. Shuri wiggles out of her bra and Peter bends to kiss her skin softly, almost reverently. She tangles her fingers in his hair as he explores with lips and tongue. On one hand, she’s aroused and wanting MORE, on the other hand, it’s amazingly erotic to let him explore slowly.

She unfastens her jeans and peels them off. Peter looks at her like she’s a goddess. “Wow,” he whispers.

She pulls him up to kiss him harder. He leans over her and she arches her back to press her breasts against his naked skin.

He runs one hand down her side, around her bellybutton, and lower … “Show me?” he asks.

She takes his hand and guides him.

He’s a fast learner, paying attention to what she says and taking note of her reactions as he touches her, first carefully and gently, then with more pressure.

She buries her nose in the crook of his neck and focuses. “Faster,” she whispers, pressing teeth into his shoulder. He complies.

Her body tenses, she can feel the wave, she shifts, reaches for his hand to change the angle, and then gasps as the rush of pleasure takes over.

Peter rolls over to his back, gasping as if he’s just run a race. “OK - that was hot,” he says.

Shuri grins at him. “Your turn?”

He laughs. “Not sure how long I’m going to last. Remember what I said about senses dialed up to eleven?” 

He wiggles out of his pants and kicks them off the bed; Shuri touches his thigh and traces one finger up the inside of his thigh and then circles his penis and strokes him gently.

Peter yelps and practically levitates off the bed. “Sorry, sorry,” he babbles. “It’s just all .. you’re … oh wow.”

“You’re circumcised,” Shuri notes.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’m Jewish. Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not,” she says quickly. “I’ve just never …”

“Really?”

“It’s not done in Wakanda,” she tells him.

She touches him lightly, a bit of pressure here, a squeeze here, but as he’d promised (or threatened) he’s quickly over-stimulated, gasping and babbling nonsense.

“Wait!” he says, grabbing her wrist. “I can’t … I’m … can you …?”

She reaches for the condom on the bed. “Ready for this?”

“Yes,” he nods.

She slides it on, pinching the tip. Then she throws one leg over and straddles him. Peter looks up at her in awe and carefully cups one breast.

“Last chance,” she teases him. “You sure you want to do this with me?”

“HELL yes,” he grins.

She eases down, feeling him fill her up. Peter closes his eyes and breathes slowly. She rocks her hips.

“Can we move … can we go a little faster?” Peter asks.

Shuri slows down, changing the angle.

Peter’s fingers flutter against her skin.

She leans forward. “Good?” she murmurs.

“Holy …” he whispers.

“Better than you imagined?”

“A hundred times, a thousand times,” he smiles.

She shifts, rocking harder, faster against him. He holds her hips, his eyes open again, watching her. He smiles. She nips his ear. He kisses her collarbone.

“Shuri,” he says. “I can’t hold on.”

“Mmm hm,” she says.

She feels him tremble as he buries his nose in the crook of her neck. She waits a few minutes, then shifts, feeling him slide out of her as she settles next to him.

“That was … that was … wow,” he says. “Just AMAZING. Can we do it again?”

She laughs. “That was fun,” she agrees.


End file.
